Paradox
by T-oftheSand
Summary: He realized then that in the end he really could be a cloud after all, just like he had always wanted. Because as long as he had her, the wind, to keep blowing him along, his well-renowned laziness became nothing.


Paradox

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T-oftheSand

I do not own Naruto.

...

He had always wished that he could just be a cloud.

He had never wanted anything more for himself.

He spent his days cloud watching, childishly acting like his responsibilities would vanish if he simply closed his eyes and went to sleep.

Although, the time eventually came that he grew to see that this was a delusion of grandeur, and that it had always been, even during the time where it had felt more legitimate. His lazy sort of normal, while remaining much the same in its nature, was now defined differently. While it was still as present as ever, it had gone from dominating his whole being, his entire existence – or, rather, _non_existence, since at that time he would have much preferred to just do nothing in his pursuit of cloud envy – to a simple flaw that was taking a more and more frequent backseat.

He had never thought in his life that he would have come to willingly (and even gladly) accept the responsibilities that were being put on him. They were not to be taken lightly; they were given for the sake of the village, and he knew and valued that. The genuine significance of this didn't lie in his knowing that the responsibilities were for the sake of the village and his friends and comrades, but in his simple understanding of that they were not to be taken lightly. And even more significant than that was his being_ glad_ that they were given to him.

It was true; he looked around and knew that things were nowhere near what they once were. He and all of his friends had grown considerably; they had become "real" shinobi, which is what they had once called the people in their current position when they were academy students.

For Shikamaru, and possibly for many of the others as well, that position had never actually seemed "real", despite it being called such. It was one of those things that you didn't really make sense of and/or notice in yourself until it was actually there. But there was no doubt in his mind that it was _actually there_ now…it had been years since they graduated from the academy. Naruto was now a Leaf celebrity and most certainly first in line to become the seventh hokage, about to achieve the dream he had held his whole life; Hiashi Hyuga had stepped down as head of the Hyuga while Hinata had stepped up, after being raised with the idea that she didn't have the ability; and Shikamaru himself had been promoted to Jonin. These were only a handful of the accomplishments that had occurred among them. Honestly, there were too many to count.

_We aren't kids anymore_, he thought.

He couldn't help but chuckle to himself when he caught himself beginning to reminisce. He was never usually the nostalgic type, but he couldn't help but entertain the thoughts of his twelve year old self being compared to his current self. He had been told by a multitude of people that he had matured greatly, although he had trouble viewing it as a compliment. _I sure as hell hope I would've matured by now_, he thought. _It's been seven years…_

Seven years.

Seven.

…Damn.

His thoughts continued to wander, and he found himself trying to count the major life changes that had occurred over time – aside from obvious advances in rank and mission-related occurrences, he had lost a fellow comrade that he had worked with on many occasions, and his sensei and father as well.

Shikamaru continued to think, but his thoughts had slowed. He really did miss his father, even though it had been two years since his death. Of course it was to be expected, but he couldn't help but be slightly surprised at the grief it was causing him. Regrettably, he was never particularly close with his father - all the two really did together was play shogi - and had been much closer to Asuma. It may have been because he just simply hadn't expected his death – his father was a brilliant man, and everyone knew that, but it also meant that no one, including Shikamaru, had really expected him of all people to die.

Either that, or it was simply because the man was, well, _his father._

He felt tears pushing at the back of his eyes. _Damn it._

He thought back to when he had discovered what had happened. He couldn't remember the first few minutes after he had heard – he figured it had been the shock – but he did remember feeling spiteful shortly after when he realized that he had found out with _her_ there. However, the troublesome woman had been surprisingly gentle and understanding, and oddly…quiet.

He had turned to see her standing there with a very unfamiliar look in her eyes.

Sympathy. Warmth. Understanding.

And for once, she had nothing to say about his tears. In fact, she said nothing at all.

He had recalled that she too had lost her father, years ago it may have been.

Shikamaru began to understand how she had still felt sympathy for him. Her father's death had occurred years before the day his father had died, but judging by how he still felt the sting of it two years following, he understood why he had seen a remnant of the same pain he was feeling in her eyes that day.

It was because the damn pain clearly never goes away.

She hadn't left his side that day, or at least never strayed far. He had noticed that it had been like that a lot, even though that this was definitely a different situation. On any regular day she did follow him around, but she was typically boisterous and obnoxious and, well…Temari. But this was the one day that she said nothing for hours on end, and just sat with him as he continued to process the news.

She seemed to just know, even without him telling her, that he didn't need to talk and didn't want to. He just needed someone to be there.

As troublesome as she was much of the time, Shikamaru was fond of her._ Very _fond of her. He couldn't deny it; truthfully, he always had been, and the fondness only continued to grow. He hadn't told anyone – not even Choji – but he had realized several years ago that he had what could have been considered _feelings_ for the woman. And he didn't like to admit it – he didn't like to admit any of this – but he had an idea that she was part of the reason why he had undergone many of these changes in the first place. He hadn't been sure of what to think about his being so greatly influenced by a girl at first, but after having seen what Temari was capable of he wasn't entirely surprised anymore. When they had first met, he had only seen her as a simple nuisance and just as another troublesome girl, but after years of working with her, said "nuisance" had earned quite a large soft spot within him and a great deal of respect.

He had been walking absentmindedly this whole time and then found himself at Shikaku's gravesite. He wasn't sure how long he had been there, and he wasn't sure how long he had been crying either. His face still felt hot, so he assumed that it wasn't for long.

At least she wasn't here to –

"Hey."

_Damn._

"Hey!"

_Don't turn…don't turn…_

He heard her come closer. "Oi. Asswipe –"

She paused mid-insult as she realized what he was standing in front of, and her voice became uncharacteristically soft. "Shikamaru?"

He sighed and brought his hand up to cover his face, partially in retaliation to the sea of butterflies that just fluttered about in his stomach, and partially in preparation for the series of insults that he was sure was about to come (one of her favorite pastimes was, indeed, making fun of him). However, he realized that there weren't any insults coming at him like there usually was. Instead she had silently come closer to him, and she had lowered her head onto his shoulder and linked her arm through his. He was shocked and wasn't sure of what to do, but he chose to just do nothing in his uncertainty and confusion, and admittedly, a bizarre sort of joy. He stood still and let her accompany him, enjoying her presence.

Through all of this, his mind was still revisiting past times. Eventually, as Temari continued to stand by him, it traveled back six years to a conversation he had with his father when he was thirteen. His mother had been a real piece of work that morning, yelling at both of them. He recalled asking his father why he had married someone like his mother (all he saw was his mother pushing his father around...in his opinion, he was completely whipped), because he did not understand why. At all. Exasperated, he had talked to Shikaku about how troublesome women were and how he wished to live his life avoiding them at all costs.

What had puzzled him greatly for the longest time was how his father responded to his rant first with a smile. Not his typical lazy smirk or grin, but a mysterious sort of genuine smile that even Shikamaru, in all his genius couldn't debunk. Following this, he had given him a reply that was, at the time, completely unsatisfying.

He had gone on to explain to him that even the strongest women will show a gentle side to the men they love. When Shikamaru had looked at him in disbelief, he was told that when he was older, he would understand.

This was, of course, before his current situation with Temari had bloomed.

He was brought back to reality by the feeling of her small hand intertwining with his. He felt the weight of her head still on his shoulder, and the butterflies in his stomach multiplied by the thousands.

After glancing down at Temari he looked up to the sky, watching the clouds once again. He remembered how he had once wanted so desperately to be one. He felt Temari readjust her head, and then thought again about how she alone was probably responsible for many of the changes he had undergone. While she was the kind of personality that could rub off on just about _anyone_ – she was, after all, the greatest wind user in all of the land and one of the better leaders he had ever seen – he knew that this was something far beyond her simply being a strong influence... It was far more complicated than that. He realized then that in the end he really _could_ be a cloud after all, just like he had always wanted to be. Because as long as he had her, the wind, to keep blowing him along, his well-renowned laziness became nothing. With her presence beside him, his lazy sort of normal took on yet another definition. First it had eaten him up, then it was simply a small flaw, but now he saw it as just a different sort of laziness. He would still always be known as lazy – he wouldn't have it any other way. It would just be a sort of paradox from here on out, a laziness with a drive that he wouldn't trade for anything else in the world. Not even for his original wish to be a cloud with no drive at all.

_I understand now, Dad… You were right._

_..._

_END  
_

_..._


End file.
